


Tome-Want

by WrathoftheStag (Mwuahna)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s02e12 Tome-wan, First Time, Hannibal Loves Will, I mean we all know they totally did it in that episode right?, M/M, Tome-Wan AU Sort Of, Tome-wan Spoilers, Will is a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:33:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7195715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwuahna/pseuds/WrathoftheStag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“He’s your patient, Doctor.  You do what you think is best for him.”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Hannibal gave Will a knowing smile, acknowledging the unspoken request.  Will, in turn, followed Hannibal intently with his gaze watching him stride toward Mason, peacocking just for him.</i>
</p><p>Slight Tome-Wan canon-divergence where Will and Hannibal sleep together, but it doesn't go quite how Will had planned.  (Although come on, we all know they totally jumped each other during that episode.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tome-Want

“He’s your patient, Doctor. You do what you think is best for him.”

Hannibal gave Will a knowing smile, acknowledging the unspoken request. Will, in turn, followed Hannibal intently with his gaze watching him stride toward Mason, peacocking just for him. 

Hannibal loomed over the babbling Mason, and in one swift motion snapped his spine, rendering him paralyzed. Hannibal then gently cradled Mason’s head to lay it against the orange and yellow chair. 

***  
_“You don't want me to have anything in my life that's not you,” Will said._

_“I only want what's best for you,” Hannibal replied as he leaned back in the large leather armchair in his office. The arrogance was staggering and yet, much to his chagrin, Will could not help but continue to be drawn to Hannibal._

_“You’re as alone as I am,” Will had offered. “And we’re both alone without each other.”_

**+++**

Will watched as Hannibal wiped his hands on Mason’s shoulders, briefly admiring a job well done. And Will Graham, ex-police officer, professor extraordinaire, prized FBI profiler, the supposed Good Guy, had never been more aroused in his entire life. God help him. Hannibal help him.

Hannibal practically skipped over to Will about to ask what he would like to do next, when he found Will instantly upon him with a hot mouth intensely plundering his with a savage hunger. Hannibal taken aback at this most unexpected (but most certainly not unwelcome) turn of events pulled away and breathlessly asked with eyes wide, “What’s this?”

Will pressed his lips onto Hannibal’s open mouth, then biting down on Hannibal’s lower lip whispered urgently, “Just shut the fuck up.”

That was all Hannibal needed really. He lift Will up by the ass, growling into his mouth, thrusting his tongue into Will’s waiting, eager one. Will instantly wrapped his legs around Hannibal’s waist, his hands reaching up to cup his face.

Hannibal stumbled backward toward the bed with Will holding on for dear life. He bit into Hannibal’s jawline, causing Hannibal to throw his head back and groan. Will quickly pulled off his coat, tossed it on the floor and said, “Take this off. Now,” as he yanked at Hannibal’s vest.

Hannibal plopped Will onto the bed and began to divest himself of his tie when Will interrupted, “No! Wait...no.” 

Hannibal stopped breathing momentarily, “No?”

Will got onto his knees, pulling Hannibal toward him once more, and nuzzling into Hannibal’s neck said, “Not here. Not with _him_ in the room.” He turned to look at Mason’s unconscious limp body and Will continued,“Take me upstairs.”

Hannibal nodded and wasted no time in scooping Will up into his arms again, lest he come to his senses and call the whole thing off. Whether or not Mason lived at this point was irrelevant. Everything that Hannibal wanted since that first meeting in Jack Crawford’s office was finally coming to fruition. Walking toward the back of the house while Will most contentedly sucked on Hannibal’s neck, Hannibal entered the study and began heading up the staircase. 

The second floor was hardly used, and what was the actual bedroom served as a storage room of sorts. In it, sat a desk and a couch that was meant to be downstairs where Will’s bed currently resided. And there, strewn on the floor, was yard after yard of white sailcloth for a new sail -- a long abandoned project. 

Hannibal gingerly put Will down on the cloth, crawled over him and said tenderly, “Will. My Will.” He dipped down and began to kiss Will softly. Hannibal breathed Will in, drowning in both adoration and his scent. Will rose up gently to meet Hannibal’s lips with his, softly moaning into his mouth, their tongues gently touching and caressing, when Will suddenly snapped back into himself. Here kissing Will was the man who suggested that hunting was a savage pleasure -- a pleasure they could share. Here kissing Will was the man who had framed him for murder. Here kissing Will was the man who watched with twisted glee as Will slowly lost his mind.

“No!” Will shouted as he pushed Hannibal away from him. “You don’t get to be tender with me. You don’t get to whisper my name, you asshole.”

Hannibal blinked at Will for a few moments, nodded, and then the dark being inside the poorly fitting person suit took over. Hannibal quickly unbuckled Will’s belt, as Will frantically unbuttoned his shirt and promptly began working on Hannibal’s vest. Hannibal pulled out Will’s hard cock and stroked it, grabbing tightly, as Will spat out, “Fuck...yes.” 

Will needed more, however, and sought it out. He pushed Hannibal back so that he was now on the floor, supine. Will straddled his thighs, and paused to take in the look of complete adoration on Hannibal’s face. The empath could see the unabashed love Hannibal felt for him -- or the closest approximation to love someone like Hannibal Lecter could feel -- and for a moment, just a moment, Will almost took pity. But pity, Will thought, had no place at the table or in the bed. 

“Will you let me broaden my palate even further?” Will asked. Hannibal merely nodded again, giving himself over to Will. The ease of Hannibal’s surrender had surprised Will, but is it really surrender when you are getting what you’ve wanted for so long?

Will leaned down and said into Hannibal’s ear, “I am going to the bathroom for some lube. When I come back, I would like you to be completely naked.” Hannibal responded with a rough, “Yes,” and Will felt Hannibal shiver beneath him. Will stroked Hannibal’s cheek once, then rose to walk out of the room, taking his shirt off in the process and tossing it onto the floor as he exited.

When Will came back upstairs, Hannibal was nude, on his back, and up on his elbows waiting for Will with an expectant look on his face. Will stood over Hannibal, who pondered him and asked, “What do you want?”

What did he want? His cock knew exactly what _it_ wanted, as it stood there hard, red and angry. Still the question was indeed a loaded one, as Will was unwilling to ask himself what _he_ wanted for fear the answer he would give himself was something he wasn’t quite yet prepared to hear. So instead, he simply said, “I want you to come to your knees, and I want you to suck my cock as if it were the greatest thing you’ve ever done in your entire life. And then, after a while, I’m going to fuck you, Hannibal,” Will said looking into Hannibal’s eyes. 

Hannibal watched intently as precome began to weep from Will’s cock. Hannibal knelt and approached Will to greedily lick it up, dipping his tongue into Will’s slit in the process, causing Will’s hips to instantly thrust and meet Hannibal’s open and eager mouth. Will plowed into the velvet heat of Hannibal’s mouth, gripping Hannibal’s hair tightly, fucking into that mouth again and again. And Hannibal, clearly not a novice, took it all beautifully.

Hannibal pulled back to plant rows of kisses along Will’s thighs, gently cupping his balls as he did so, looking up through lowered lashes. Will watched intently and then closed his eyes, unable to take Hannibal’s gaze boring into him the way it was. Will didn’t want it to mean anything else but sex. He just witnessed Hannibal paralyze a man, for christ’s sake. Love had no place in this equation.

“Get down,” Will said. He rolled Hannibal onto his stomach, and Hannibal raised his ass slightly. Will grabbed the bottle of lube and drizzled a copious amount along Hannibal’s crack, and then onto his own cock. With one hand, Will stroked himself and with the other, he began to massage Hannibal’s hole.

Hannibal remained quiet, fisting the sailcloth underneath him as Will continued to work him. He rubbed the puckered skin with his thumb, massaging it with alternating soft and rough strokes. Hannibal began to moan as Will worked in a finger, then another, scissoring him open. 

“Do you want this?” Will asked, voice low and replete with desire.

“Yes,” Hannibal replied as he swung his arm behind him to pull Will in toward him. Will was practically shaking ready to take Hannibal, and fill him with everything he was.

Will pressed into Hannibal slowly at first, feeling the resistance of the muscle giving way. And in an instant, a line had been crossed that could never be uncrossed. This new facet of Hannibal and Will’s relationship opened a myriad of feelings in Will. It thrilled him, milked pure sensuality from him, and excited him in such a way that he felt as though he might instantly come. What he hadn’t expected, however, was the sudden surge of tenderness he felt for the man beneath him. And it frightened Will. It frightened Will terribly. So much so that he pushed the strange and usual feeling aside, and began to do what he had announced with much bravado that he would do. He fucked Hannibal.

Will’s hands gripped Hannibal hips tightly, bruises forming, as Will continued to fuck into Hannibal; his pace began to increase steadily. Will then slammed his cock into Hannibal, balls deep, as Hannibal continued moaning and meeting each thrust with equal ardor. Will could feel the coil deep within him tightening and threatening to snap as his orgasm continued to build. He’d fuck Hannibal for all the things he had done, he’d fuck Hannibal for all the things he knew he was capable of. Will continued to ignored the other feeling that had been born; that being with Hannibal was starting to feel like home -- a home he never even knew he had been looking for. He made sure to push that feeling away. 

“Fuck, I’m coming,” Will said as he slammed into Hannibal once more, his vision whiting out, and with that final thrust Will crumbled and released into Hannibal who cried out, “Yes, Will. Yes.” Will collapsed onto Hannibal’s back, panting and spent. 

Hannibal turned his head to looked at Will with what appeared to be damp eyes, and Will suddenly felt a tremendous amount of guilt. He hadn’t forced himself on Hannibal, but something felt off and he felt he needed to remedy this -- whatever _this_ was -- somehow.

Will slipped out of Hannibal, the warm gush of his come followed after him. Hannibal sighed and lowered himself on to the floor, his cheek flush against the fabric, Will still clinging to him. Will then began to lightly stroke Hannibal’s back, and dotted it with the tiniest of kisses -- lips barely pressing into Hannibal’s taut skin. Hannibal’s breath hitched, and Will looked up and could see that Hannibal slowly closed his eyes and sighed as Will continued to caress him.

“Turn over,” Will said quietly and Hannibal obliged. The look on his face read that he wasn’t quite sure what it was Will had in mind.

Will slowly slid up until his face was parallel to Hannibal’s. He examined Hannibal’s visage: the fine lines around his eyes, the eyes themselves that held all the mysteries of Hannibal’s life, the scar over the bridge of his nose (one day he would ask how it was exactly that he received that scar) and his lush, pouty lips. Will took it all in and asked with complete awe, “How are you so beautiful?” Hannibal remained silent, but stroked Will’s hair and smiled, and it was then that Will felt it once more, that unexplainable, improbable thing where Hannibal felt like _home_. He leaned down and kissed Hannibal softly.

What followed next was an unspoken declaration from Will, a declaration of what some would say was love -- others would say it was something new altogether. Will didn’t try to define it, he just knew he needed Hannibal, and it was this need that made Will repeat his refrain from the other day: “You’re as alone as I am...and we’re both alone without each other." Only this time he added, "Let me change that.” Whether he was being honest, neither Will nor Hannibal were sure, but it didn’t really matter in that moment. And soon Hannibal came with Will’s name on his lips, and that utterance was as pure as any prayer, as real as any confession. 

Will fell asleep, but not before he heard Hannibal say quietly, “I love you, Will.” 

**+++**

They both got up a few hours later, when the realization hit them that Mason goddamn Verger was still half-dead and paralyzed in Will’s living room. They swiftly dressed, and headed downstairs, neither one really talking about what had just transpired between them. 

Hannibal was unsure about how Will had dealt with his proclamation -- if he had _even_ heard him. And Will? Well, Will couldn’t even begin to deal with any of it. How could he explain this? He was supposed to be a good fisherman, and instead he had slept with the fishes. 

Mason remained where they had left him. Where else would he have gone? Hannibal crouched down to check his pulse. “He is still alive, Will.”

“What do we do with him now? We can’t just drive up, ring the Verger doorbell and say, ‘Here’s your garbage pile of a brother, Margot. Sorry we broke him.’”

“And why can we not?” Hannibal asked. “Well, maybe not those exact words, but why shouldn’t we deliver him to Margot? Should she not have her time to at last ‘care’ for her brother? Care for him the way he has cared for her all these years?”

Will pondered what Hannibal said, and then picked up his cell phone to dial Margot’s number.

**+++**

The fireplace in Hannibal’s office was the main source of light, and afforded both men a warmth they currently needed. Will had decided that what happened between them had been a mistake, so instead of talking to Hannibal about it he took the cowardly way out and did not mention the other evening at all. It had been as though it never occurred. A coward indeed, Will bitterly thought as he looked at the flames dancing in the fireplace. 

Will had thought about Jack and what he expected of Will, and asked how he had let himself get to this place? Hannibal had said he loved Will, but what did that even mean in the grand scheme of it all? 

Hannibal sketched quietly, stopped and looked at Will with such a softness it almost wore down Will’s fortitude -- or supposed fortitude, if Will were being honest with himself. Coward. 

They discussed Achilles and Patroclus, knowing full well it was an all-too obvious metaphor but continued with the charade regardless. Will walked back to the fireplace and said, "This isn't sustainable...we're going to get caught.” 

Hannibal put down his pencil, looked at Will, and replied, “Jack Crawford already suspects you killed Freddie Lounds.”

“If Jack told you he suspects me, it means he suspects you.”

“I know,” Hannibal said softly.

“You should give him what he wants,” Will added. 

“Give him the Chesapeake Ripper?” 

“Allow him closure. Reveal yourself. You've taunted him long enough. Let him see you with clear eyes,” Will replied. 

“Jack has become my friend. I suppose I owe him the truth.”

Hannibal and Will both remained silent as the weight of Hannibal’s words sat heavily on both of them. The truth. What was the truth? Particularly when it came their relationship. Particularly when it came to love?

**+++**

**Epilogue** : Will jumped on board the Nola, and did a final check before heading out. Once satisfied, he raised her sail and looked toward the east, hoping with everything that he was that he would find Hannibal in Italy. 

Gently stroking the Nola's sail, Will recalled the evening he and Hannibal had shared long ago in Wolf Trap. They had spent the night twisted among the folds of that sailcloth, and each other. It was a night he may have denied outwardly, but inwardly it had stayed with him and never left his side. And Will knew their paths would cross once more. He just knew it.

**Author's Note:**

> This was suppose to be a smutty, PWP, quick thing -- so I have no clue how it ended up this angsty, sad ass piece. William Graham, you be nice to my Hanners!
> 
> Also, yes, he totally made Nola's sail out of the sailcloth they did it on. Will is a sentimental romantic, when he's not being a total little shit.
> 
> Inspired by a comment [Victorine](http://archiveofourown.org/users/victorine/works) made on Tumblr. Hi!
> 
> Come say hi and visit me [on Tumblr](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com/).


End file.
